


Itchy and Scratchy

by Devilc



Category: Wildcats 3.0
Genre: Blow Job, Comics, M/M, WildStorm Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:17:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a man of action like Grifter, being in a wheelchair has to grind. Wax helps out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itchy and Scratchy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the snark between Wax and Grifter. (And boy oh boy do I miss this comic).

Cole Cash shifted in his wheelchair as much as the casts and the framing on both his legs would let him. From a childhood spill out of a tree he knew that casts itched. But this time, with 3 pins in one leg and about 10 in the other, he now knew it was possible for a body's bones to itch. He squirmed some more and half wished he were back in bed. At least there, flat on his back, he could slide a knitting needle down and get some relief.

He wriggled his ass again. Too hard. He certainly didn't itch any more. He had 10 pins in that leg and he felt every god damn one of them. Biting his lip against the pain, he eased back a bit and tried to run through some of the Coda mental discipline exercises Zealot had taught him.

Nothing doing. One leg still had a bone deep itch, the other continued to throb with pain. Fuck, he needed a cigarette, but Halo was a no smoking place and Marlowe really really frowned on him smoking until both casts were off, telling him that he needed all the blood flow possible to speed the recovery process. And lighting up in Marlowe's lobby ... well, that was just f'in rude, right?

"Something bothering you, Cole?"

He had been so distracted that he hadn't heard Agent Wax enter the lobby.

"Yeah, Marlowe's meeting with Dolby is running extra long, and the itch in my legs is driving me insane." Pause. "Marlowe also won't let me smoke in here," he grumbled.

Wax gave something between a smirk and a smile, but there was sympathy in his eyes as he replied, "This is a shit week to be you. Marlowe still let you drink?"

"Yeah."

"Good, after the meeting I'll take you out and get you good and hammered."

"I take back every unkind thing I've ever said to you, Wax."

"Don't speak too soon, Cole."

Cole. Not "Cash", not "Grifter." Cole thought about the implications of this as he wriggled some more in the chair trying to ease one leg and not jerk the other. He succeeded at neither.

"Wow. You really are having a bad time of it."

Cole looked up at Wax and tried not to let his despair show. He itched, he hurt, he needed a cigarette, and he hadn't slept well all week. Marlowe, ever with the wicked sense of humor, had hired a truck-faced, grey-haired, no-nonsense nurse old enough to be Cole's mother to take care of him, and he was utterly dependent on her to rise, shit, shave, shower, and shine. It was killing him.

Without a word Wax grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed him into the bathroom, right into the handicapped stall and locked the door behind them.

"What are you doing?"

Wax knelt between his legs as best he could and, reaching for Cole's fly, replied, "I'm going to provide you with a distraction."

And before Cole could say yea, nay, or praise god and pass the ammo, Wax had his fly unzipped, and Cole's cock out and into his warm, wet, and perfectly hot mouth.

Not that things stayed soft for long. "Jesus, Wax, are all NPS agents as well trained as you?" Cole managed to gasp out as Wax's tongue brought him to full hardness in what seemed like a split second.

"I don't know. Now, no more questions. I'd have to take my mouth off your dick to answer."

"And we wouldn't want that, now would wweeeeeeeeeeeee!" Cole's voice squeaked as Wax's tongue found a particularly supersensitive spot on the underside of the crown.

He couldn't buck his hips, he couldn't even form any coherent thoughts, couldn't even say "harder" or "slower" or "just like that". He just managed to card his hands into Wax's soft white-blonde hair and muttered an endless string of ohgods. Cole tried to keep it quiet, but anybody walking into that bathroom would have no doubts about what was going on in one of those stalls and ohgod he could feel it building deep within him and he had been trying to give himself a good frigging every morning to take the edge off but that was nothing like having a guy go down on you and oh jesus yes, so close so close just ohmygod almost just get done before Marlowe zaps us into his office, oh yeah oh yeah oh fuck that was so --

"I'm -- Wax!" He choked out, and instead of pulling up, Wax slammed all the way down on him, grinding his nose into Cole's pubes, and Cole could feel the delicate spasms of Wax's gag reflexes and then it all boiled out of him in a white hot flood, and almost like it was someone else's voice he heard a long low moan and realized that sound of utter, bone deep satisfaction issued from his lips.

Cole sagged in the chair, well, sagged as much as the framing would let him. He felt as limp as a noodle, a word which also pretty much described his state of mind as Wax tucked him back in, stood up, swatted at the dirt on the knees of his suit pants, and without a word wheeled Cole back into the lobby.

A moment later the doors opened and Jack Marlowe walked out, "Ah, there you are gentlemen -- Cole, are you all right?"

Cole tried to speak but found he couldn't even get so much as an "um" out of his mouth.

"I think he is, Mr. Marlowe, " Wax said solicitously, "but he's on so many medications right now, I'm not surprised he looks a little ... glazed."

Marlowe's eyes glowed pinkish and Cole could tell that Marlowe was scanning him. "His blood is swimming in endorphins."

"Oh, that," Wax replied, "he was itching pretty bad, and I helped scratch it."

Marlowe's brow furrowed, "A tremendous itch indeed to have caused such an endorphin rush."

"Huge, sir."

And all Cole could do was smile as he straightened up a bit in the chair Itch? Hell, if he played his cards right perhaps he could talk Wax into another scratching session as soon as the meeting was over.


End file.
